Voyage of the Dreamer
by PathlessSpore
Summary: She wanted to believe it was all a dream, just another one of her nightmares, but this time it's all too frighteningly real. Caught up in a world, and a war, that's not her own Claire must fight to survive; or she may never return home where she truly belongs. Rated T for mild language, and mildly suggestive themes.
1. Afraid

Voyage of the Dreamer  
Dragon Age: Inquisition  
Iron Bull/OC  
Chapter 1  
Afraid

 _When I wake up I'm afraid_  
 _Somebody else might take my place_  
 _When I wake up I'm afraid_  
 _Somebody else might end up being me_

 _Afraid - The Neighborhood_

* * *

Why do we dream?

Long ago a therapist had once asked that question. Claire could almost remember it like it had happened the day before. The office was warm, just like the nice woman sitting in the plush chair. A collection of stuffed animals lined one book shelf, from large plushy bears to tiny beanie babies. Miss Mallory had been her favorite therapist, always a kind smile lighting up her soft features.

She had been nine when the terrifying nightmares began. When Claire's mother had taken her to the doctors they explained that she was suffering from a type of anxiety. As to what was stressing the young child…they could only guess. They suggested Claire see a therapist to help relieve it.

But so many things changed in ten years. Miss Mallory was gone now, having moved west to start a family. While therapy had never really helped relieve the chronic nightmares, it had always been nice to talk to someone about all the things that made Claire angry or sad. She had confided in her old therapist about her living conditions, how hard school was, and her fears about her own future.

Now, her new therapists seemed disinterested in her life. They were just young doctors looking for their big break, and Claire and her disorder were just old news. Eventually, Claire shut down again only going to the sessions because her mother forced her to.

"Talk to them Claire." Sally would argue, "They're trying to help you."

Her mother meant well, she always did.

It's why it bothered the young woman that she was still going to these sessions. In truth, Sally was spending money they didn't have. They already barely made it by on her meager paycheck, and Claire was often so sleep deprived it prevented her from keeping a steady job. Here she was at nineteen, no job, no car, and no hope for a normal future.

Her life was just fantastic.

"Ms. Brennigan, please pay attention." Vivid green eyes looked up ruefully at her hooked nosed therapist from beneath unruly red curls before she scowled at him, the freckles across her face shifting slightly as her expression darkened. Dr. Walker seemed uninterested, and quickly wrote down on his little clipboard, the pen scribbling across the paper maddeningly.

She hated this man.

He was a new therapist, and this was their second session. The last one had given up on her, just like the one before that. And here she was sitting in this guy's fancy office, with his fancy degrees on his fancy wall, and he was so apathetic she could almost taste it.

 _So how's that nice degree workin' out for ya? She wanted to ask coldly; would it kill this guy to smile just a little?_

Probably…

"Tell me about your latest dream, Ms. Brennigan." He prompted with a sigh, his cold eyes shifting towards the clock.

 _Yeah, I don't wanna be here as much as you do, but talkin' to ya sure as hell ain't gonna to make the time go by faster_.

Claire gave him credit where it was due. He did try to poke an answer out of her that was more than a syllable. However, her unwillingness to cooperate with him caused the hour to drag by in an agonizing crawl. When she was finally allowed to leave she couldn't get out of the room fast enough, black on white ceramic blurred by her vision as she rushed out into the waiting room where he mother sat in one of the chairs.

Sally Brennigan was a small mousy woman; freckles ran across her fair yet worn skin. She looked up as Claire came round the corner, green eyes brightening with the smile that broke out across her face. Her long graying auburn hair was quickly brushed behind her ears as she stood to greet her daughter. They were a lot alike, or so people often pointed out. Claire couldn't see it; where her mother was a pretty shining star of optimism, her daughter was a sullen void of anger and fatigue.

Sally disappeared into Dr. Walker's office for the usual post appointment talk. Claire could only imagine the conversation that was happening behind the closed door. She was willing to bet there was talk of her being suicidal, or at least starting on the path of becoming a killer sociopath. She snorted at the thought.

Her, a sociopath?

First of all, she needed to be devoid of a moral compass, and she liked to think she had a good grasp on that. As for her habit of being completely unsociable, being tired caused her tolerance for general stupidity to fall through the floor. It was better to remove herself from stressful situations than risk going off on somebody. And besides, she'd be a terrible serial killer. She and blood never got along to begin with; a nosebleed was usually enough to make her nauseous.

When the minute hand finally reached the half hour mark Sally emerged from the doctor's office. Claire looked at her as her mother trained her gaze on the floor. She looked so old then, tired and beaten as she shuffled along to the reception desk.

It was her fault; all this money on Claire's condition and they were no closer to a cure than they were years ago. Sometimes, while lying in bed at night, she'd wish her mother would just leave. Claire convinced herself that it wouldn't be so bad, at least her mother could gather the shattered remains of her life and put it back together. Her mother deserved the world, and yet she was stuck with Claire.

Life certainly was cruel.

"Claire," The redhead snapped out of her reverie, "Let's go, we're going to be late for the train home."

Sally flashed her a disappointed look. It was an expression Claire didn't often see and it made her stomach drop. She followed her mother out into the bright Friday afternoon streets, and was nearly swept up into the bustling crowd that never seemed to cease. They traveled down the busy sidewalks, pushing through the thousands of people that bumped past them.

They finally managed to return home within the next hour, tired from their long day out. Their apartment was a small one bedroom complex. Despite the size it was homey and well kept; the kitchen was tidy and clean, as was the living room. The den was Sally's space, indicated by the multitudes of trinkets decorating shelves and hanging from the walls. They were reminders of her childhood in Ireland, a home and family Claire would likely never see.

For reasons she wouldn't divulge, her mother wasn't on good terms with her family. Even in their worst moments, Sally refused to break down and ask them for help. When questioned about it, her mother would just frown. She'd shrug and say,

"They made their choice…and I made mine."

Claire quickly kicked off her worn sneakers, and padded across of the living room towards her bedroom. She shut the door with a firm snap and heaved a sigh of relief. Finally, sweet solitude. Her fortress was small. Clutter took up much of the floor, a horrid amalgamation of clothes and other junk, while the late noonday sun filtered in through dirty window. Her sparsely used bed sat at the far wall, while her wardrobe leaned upon her left hand wall with her desk next to the door.

She dumped her jacket on the floor and overstepped her mess towards the bed. She was eager to relax after her arduous appointment; she fell into her pile of blankets and pillows searching for the paperback book hidden within the depths. Once she had the novel in hand she flopped onto her stomach and began to thumb quickly through the pages before finding the point where she left off.

She liked books; they were easy to get along with. They didn't think she was weird, or call her names, and their sole purpose was to transport her to other worlds. Which was as good as it was going to get for her. Sometimes she wondered what it'd be like to live in the places described in her books. Then she'd be able to embark on adventures, and be the hero in her own tale for once.

But this was reality, and reality had a bad habit of shitting on people for no legitimate reason. On Earth she was different, an outcast made by society because she didn't fit into their norms. Claire certainly didn't ask to be different; if she had her way she'd be the happy go lucky girl people wanted her to be, and who had passed high school with top marks so she could be accepted into prestigious colleges.

Then at least she would be a daughter her mother could be proud of, instead of the tired failure that she ended up as.

"Claire," Sally's voice echoed through the closed door, "I'm going to the library, do you want anything while I'm out?"

The young woman paused for a moment, "No." She called back.

"Alright, I'm going to be out late. There's leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry, and don't let anyone you don't know into the house."

"Ma, I'm nineteen, I get the idea of stranger danger."

"Lip, Claire." Came a warning tone from beyond the door, visibly the redhead shrank back,

"Sorry."

There was a pause and the slight shuffle of footsteps before her mother's voice came back through the door, "I love you, Claire." She said; Claire smiled softly,

"I love ya too ma – be safe out there."

She listened as her mom walked away, seconds later she heard the door open and creak shut. There wasn't much to do in their small apartment, and it wasn't like she had any friends to invite over for any wild parties. Claire sighed and rolled onto her back continuing her book . She passed the next hour and a half leisurely, shifting every so often.

Eventually, hunger took hold, and she clambered through her room. The hallway was dim, the setting sun nearly below the city horizon, filtering in through the window at the end of the hall. Claire padded quickly into the kitchen and went straight for the fridge. As she warmed her leftovers she wandered into the living room, overstepping the blankets that lay quietly at the foot of the couch.

Their apartment was only one bedroom, as such Sally had given it to Claire and opted to sleep on the couch. More than once, the pair had argued about the arrangement. Claire was more than willing to sleep in the living room, but her mother insisted that since her daughter was a young adult she needed her privacy.

But Claire wasn't interested in the couch or their modesty. In fact she swept past both towards the far wall by the window. There, a mirror stood proudly along the wall standing a foot or two taller than she. The border was an intricate design of woven wood, and tarnished metal. The glass was smooth, crystal clear, and a pristine reflection of herself smiled.

It had been an early birthday present. One of the few times Claire had ever really asked for one. She and her mother had been walking an outdoor market that day looking for a new coffee table for their apartment. The stalls were cramped together; people talking and yelling as the crowd pushed and shoved against each other ruthlessly. Someone had thrust her into a narrow walkway and she stumbled, catching herself upon an old rickety stall.

"Well, well, what have we here?"

Claire's heart shot to her throat, she looked up to find an old woman leaning over the stall's counter, which was covered in a heavy looking blanket. The crone watched her like a hawk, her eyes narrowed and gleaming with a predatory gaze. The old woman's' gaze was odd and unnerving, there was something about her that just seemed…off. Swallowing she stood, hoping she hadn't broken anything because that the last thing she needed was a pissed off old lady.

"Sorry," She muttered, "I got pushed, I didn't break anything did I?"

The woman laughed, rough but also kind in some weird sort of way. She peeled back the blanket to check on her goods, and Claire's breath caught in her chest. Jewelry of all kinds lay in neat little rows from necklaces to brooches with gems of varying color and variety. They shone brightly in the flickering sun, so beautiful she was almost entranced.

"Bah, there's nothing in here worth losing my head over if it's broken. In fact you might increase the value if you did," The woman laughed again, "Jewelry, such petty baubles for petty people. You're not petty, are you my dear?"

"I don't know…they are really pretty."

"I'll not deny that; but their value isn't in how they look, but in their history. The pendants passed down from generation to generation are the ones that hold the most power, it's almost as if the ancestors are passing a small part of their soul to their progeny. Like this one perhaps."

She threw the blanket back over the stall, and motioned for Claire to follow her into the back. The young redhead hesitated for a moment before letting her feet guide her. They stopped before another blanketed object, to which the woman quickly pulled it off.

Claire gasped, and reached a hand out to the tarnished frame. The jewelry had been nice, but this pulled her in and entranced her with her own reflection. She sighed as she admired the beautiful craftsmanship, but almost all at once it faded. Her mother's voice rang out from outside the stall; it didn't take long for her mother to rush to her side instantly suspicious of the old crone. They talked, about what Claire wasn't really paying attention. She was admiring herself in the mirror, her smile gazing back at her as she turned her head side to side.

"Claire?" She turned to her mother, Sally's gaze flickered to her and to the mirror. Whatever she and the proprietor had talked about, it had apparently calmed her mother. "Do you really like it?"

The young woman turned to it again, gazing at it longingly, "Ma, ya can't afford this."

"I didn't ask if we could afford it. I asked if you liked it?" She nodded, and her mother turned to the owner, "What do you want for it?"

The old woman shrugged, "You can take it for free."

Sally scoffed, "You have to be joking?"

It earned her a laugh, "I wish I was; I'm an old woman now, and it's unfortunate my daughter has little interest in my heirlooms. I certainly can't take this with me when I die, and I don't want this to fall in the hands of someone who's just going to break it. I can see you've raised your daughter to respect things of great value; so I entrust it to you."

The look Sally gave her was unfathomable, but Claire was too ecstatic to care. The mirror was hers, and she loved it! They lugged it home at the end of the day; and by the time they got it upstairs both were covered in sweat. The lack of space in Claire's bedroom forced Sally to set it up in the den. Every day Claire would spend her time in front of the mirror, admiring herself and it day after day.

Time went on and Sally began to like it less and less. She didn't like that Claire would waste her day in front of it, and she didn't like the eerie feeling it gave her. Claire's mother was a born Irish woman, and they had their own brand of superstitions. There were little habits her mother had, from her childhood that Claire found annoying, so it was no surprise when Sally finally admitted she didn't like the mirror about a month afterwards. She didn't suggest getting rid of it outright, but there were hints that she wanted it gone. Of course, Claire adamantly refused. It was the nicest thing she'd ever owned, and her mother's stupid superstitions weren't going to change her mind.

The microwave finished its cycle just as Claire shook herself from her thoughts. She returned to the mirror with little hesitation, stirring the contents of the plastic bowl before unceremoniously stuffing her face.

She considered going to bed soon, if she was lucky her nightmares wouldn't be bad and she could get a decent nights rest, as unlikely as it seemed. She had promised her mother that she would go visit Ms. Harold who lived two floors above them. She was really old and needed help around her small apartment, and Sally often liked to volunteer Claire's time. Polishing off the last of her food, the redhead cleaned her dishes, and switched off the lights in the house save for the small kitchen light.

It wasn't long before Claire was staring at the ceiling above her, listening to the cars outside. Her thoughts raced as she turned one way to the other until her eyes began to feel heavy, and ever so slowly she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

It had started out as a nice dream, as they usually do. Claire was standing in front of her mirror, in a beautiful long blue dress. She twirled about, the hem sashaying as she smiled and laughed. Her long red curls bounced as she stopped to admire her reflection in the clear glass, playing with her dress.

Slowly, her smile faded as her reflection disappeared. The glass became milky and began to shimmer brightly, forcing Claire to shut her eyes when it became too much to bear. Voices started to echo about her, saying things she couldn't quite understand no matter how hard she tried to listen in. Eventually, green eyes peeked open to see that her mirror was still glowing, though not as brightly, and that the surface shimmered like water.

The urge to reach out and touch it became immense. Breath caught in her chest, Claire extended her arm, fingers reaching out to touch the mirror. Just as she brushed the fluid glass she screamed in horror as the clear sheen darkened, and a monstrous hand reached out from the depths. In a flash it grabbed her by the waist pulling her within, still screaming, until a shrill voice broke through the din and shook her awake,

"Claire Marie Brennigan!"

* * *

The dinner table was awkwardly quiet that night, the pair had barely touched their food. Claire eyed her mother carefully from her peripheral; she knew exactly what she had wanted to say. Hell, she had all day to think about her speech while Claire wasted her time with Ms. Harold, and to be honest she only gagged because she didn't want to have this argument once again.

"Claire-"

"I'm not gettin' rid of it," she instantly snapped, "Ya being paranoid, Ma."

"Paranoid," Sally replied thin-lipped, "Paranoid is being sure someone is following you down a darkened street. This, this is serious Claire, because you never had a problem with sleepwalking until we got that cursed thing."

"So the Mirror is controlling me in my sleep," The young woman rolled her eyes and stabbed at her food angrily, "Is that what you're going with? Because it sounds stupid to me."

"You're not a mother, Claire, you don't know what it's like to worry-"

Green eyes snapped up to glare angrily at her mother, "Bullshit, I don't."

"Lip, Claire." Sally's daughter paused, staring back down at her dinner before she sneered,

"How you gonna pay this months' rent? Ya spent your last paycheck on my doctor visit," When she got no answer she heaved an irritable sigh, "Figures. You really think I don't know what it's like to worry. I may not have a kid, but I worry about how we're gonna make it. 'Specially with the way you keep throwing down cash for my therapy."

"That's not for you to worry about, Claire, you're just a child still-"

"Ma, I'm nineteen, as much as you hate it I ain't a kid no more, and I figure I gotta right to say what I can and can't do now. I'm keepin' that mirror, and as for therapy, cancel my next appointment because as far as I'm concerned that ain't doin' shit."

Sally slammed her hands on the table, causing Claire to jump. Wide eyed she watched her mother turned to her and frowned, "Claire Marie Brennigan," she spoke in a soft, yet deadly tone, "Nineteen or not, you are my daughter and I will not be spoken to with such disrespect. Thus far, I've been lenient in ya behavior, but no more. Tonight, I'm going out to find a buyer for that feckin' thing, and ya are gonna go to ya room and that's gonna be the end of the discussion!"

Claire had officially pissed off her mother now; she could tell because her accent was coming out, but she wasn't going to be deterred. She threw back the chair, throwing her fork to the table, "Then maybe I won't be home when ya get back." She threatened before she stormed out of the kitchen to her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

* * *

Sally was still mad by the time she left that night, having slammed the front door shut without bidding goodbye. Claire scowled angrily at the wall for the better part of two hours; there was nothing she could do. Her mother called her bluff; Claire would still be home by the time she got back and the mirror would be gone. It made her so angry that the one nice thing she'd ever gotten was going to be tossed away like trash because her mother 'didn't like it'.

Claire was still thinking about her options by the time ten o'clock rolled around; Sally would be home soon, and about the only thing she could think of to save her mirror is if she turned on the water works. It was a long shot, she had really tee'd of her mother so her acting would have to be good. She was trying to practice her crying when she heard a noise from the living room.

She looked towards her bedroom door in confusion; it was odd because she hadn't heard the front door open. The clinking of glass continued, as if someone was rifling through her mother's things, and the thought suddenly made her stomach drop.

Had someone had broken into her house?

Claire hesitated as she rose halfway up her bed; she had no idea what to do, her mind reeling as the emboldened robber became louder. She could lock her door and stay in her room, and hope they left quickly.

But her mother's things! She had expensive heirlooms sitting in the living room, anyone with a brain could tell that. Her heart was palpitating out of control; she knew the house phone was sitting on a table top just past the hallway threshold. If she could sneak out and grab it, she could scurry back to her room and call the police.

With a plan in mind, Claire crept up to her door, eased it open and started down the hallway as silently as she could. A singular light shone in the living room, a flashlight maybe? She could hear the thief mumble to themselves, but Claire couldn't quite catch what they were saying. Her foot caught one of the creaky floorboards, making her cringe as the voice stopped talking. There was a long silence before she could hear the sound of footsteps, and low cursing.

Claire was nearly panting now, nervously while the robbery was distracted she scurried towards the threshold, determined to grab the phone and go before she was caught. She reached the threshold and peeked round, hoping to avoid the flashlight.

Except...

Except is wasn't a flashlight that was the source. Claire could only stare in shock and confusion as a low hum emanated from her now glowing mirror. Frozen, she could see the silhouette of a slender figure trying to fumble, as if they couldn't figure out how to work it, with the lamp. Realizing she was going to be caught she made a mad grab for the phone just as it was the light flicked on.

* * *

 ** _A/N: So here is the long awaited remake to Voyage of the Dreamer, title pending as it may be changed in the future, still unsure. I'm trying to go for a bit more realism this time around, or as real as I can get with a Video Game World._**

 ** _Summary: We are introduced to Claire Brennigan, a young woman from New York who has been suffering from a chronic sleep disorder for nearly ten years. Sullen, and a bit temperamental, she has given up on therapy as a solution for her problems, and wishes her mother would do the same._**

 ** _A few months prior she had obtained a beautiful mirror from a mysterious old woman, which caused a change in her sleeping habits much to the dismay of her mother Sally. Superstitious to a fault her mother wants to get rid of the mirror. A recent episode causes Claire and Sally to have an argument where her mother finally makes good on her threat, and leaves to find a buyer for it. During that time, where Claire is trying to find a way to keep it, she hears a din from the living room, and fearfully dubs it to be a robber in her house. Wanting to spare her mother's expensive jewelry and heirlooms, she bravely sneaks out to the living room for the phone._**

 ** _Only then does she notice something she has never witnessed before; her mirror is glowing with an eerie light, and before she can think on it more the intruder fumbles for a light source, turning it on just as Claire has grabbed the phone._**


	2. The Place I'll Return To Someday

Voyage of the Dreamer  
Dragon Age: Inquisition  
Iron Bull/OC  
romance/Adventure/Hurt/Comfort  
Chapter 2  
The Place I'll Return to Someday

 _Carry me home, I lost my way on roads ever weaving  
Home, where darkness fades and hearts are ever believing  
Carry me home, I close my eyes and cling to you ever dreaming  
Find me, don't forget the child for whom you are grieving_

 _The Place I'll Return to Someday -Erutan_

* * *

The phone fell from her hand and to the floor with a loud clatter. Both she and the stranger, a pale lithe woman, jumped. Their gazes locked as they became aware of one another; and Claire could do nothing but stare in shock, the tension in the air rising. Her heart racing wildly in her chest, her thought process began to flat line in a desperate attempt to make any sort of sense of the situation.

Because first of all, mirrors didn't glow. Mirrors do not glow. Mirrors shine, reflect, and show you that maybe that outfit might not be the best choice, but mirrors don't glow. They just don't. At least not like what hers was doing, and especially since Claire was ninety percent sure there wasn't an electrical outlet attached to it. So that fiasco was quickly becoming an unexplainable mess with implications that just traversed into the world of weird. A ride she was not interested in taking, to be perfectly honest.

And then there was the intruder herself, who just stood there with a 'Deer in the Headlights' look on her face, and dressed like she had just stepped out of one of Claire's fantasy novels. Her wispy blonde hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, while pale blue eyes could only gape in confusion. She had faint tattoos all over her forehead, and only by staring at them did Claire noticed the pointy ears.

Her brain began to scream in panic. Who the hell was this lady? A Cosplayer? And if so, how in the hell did she break into Claire's house? None of the windows were broken or looked as if they had been opened, and the same for the front door. So seriously?

What the fuck?

A phrase her reeling mind could only auto-repeat at this point until Claire noticed something clasped her hand. In one, she gripped an intricate, yet thick looking walking stick, and in the other she held a silver pendant.

A really familiar silver pendant...

Claire's eyes widened and her heart stopped. Her hands balled into fists, she could feel the indignant anger rise in her chest.

That pendant belonged to her mother. It had been a gift to Sally from her uncle when she had moved to America. Though they never spoke, her mother often reminisced fondly of the man and held his gift most dear to her. And the anger she felt caused her to finally speak, to both of their surprise,

"Hey," she snapped angrily, tensing her legs as if she was about to leap up, "Drop that, it's not yours!"

She had startled the intruder, who in turn wasted no time in turning tail to run. However, instead of bolting towards the door or the window like a completely normal person, she went straight for the mirror. Reality took over for the moment; because in Claire's mind, as she leaped up, she could see the stranger running into the glass like a total idiot. She'd topple over from the force of the impact where Claire would instantly pin her and wrestle free the pendant from her hands.

And like usual, reality took a huge dump on Claire.

A really big one.

Because instead of running into the glass, like she should have done, she simply passed through it like it was made of water. The young woman skidded a complete halt, just short of following after. As she hesitated at the foot of the mirror her mind brought back her dream from the night before, and how eerily similar this seemed. A part of her told her to let it go, that this level of weirdness wasn't worth it, and to not fight her mother when she came home to get rid of the mirror.

But the pendant!

At best, Sally would think she'd lost it and frantically search for something that had been stolen.

At the worst...

She'd accuse Claire of pilfering it in retaliation because her mother would never believe a strange woman had come through the mirror and sifted through her stuff. And she wasn't about to stand for being accused of something she didn't do. But she also knew that if she didn't make a decision soon the Stranger would disappear, and the pendant would be lost forever.

Taking a deep breath Claire slowly reached out tentative fingertips, barely brushing the shimmering surface. It was cold, as if she was touching water, and carefully she pushed her hand through. It passed with little resistance, and she could feel a draft on the other side. She swallowed nervously, steeling the last of her courage, and jumped in.

She stumbled on the other side, catching herself on the uneven stone path. It radiated cold beneath her bare feet while Claire finally looked at her surroundings. A roiling mist fell upon everything, obscuring shadowy ruins in the distance, hid barely discernible paths, and fell over the edges of the stone walkways. Apprehensively, she peered over the edge to gaze at a white abyss before pulling back to the mirror.

She could barely just make out her living room on the other side, as the mysterious item lay upon the side of a massive cliff. Her gut told her to go back in, throw away the mirror, and forget this ever happened. However, from behind, she picked up the faint echoes of retreating footsteps and without a second thought she followed after.

Her strides pounded upon the rocks, stinging as she hit sharp edges on the floor, and when she came to the first crossroad she stopped to listen. Claire hoped she hadn't lost the stranger in the mist and confusing pathways, and she prayed she wouldn't do the same. The last thing she needed was to get stuck in this weird limbo. She noted the ruined archway to her left, a strange land marker if she ever saw one, and briefly she wondered what it was doing here.

This whole place was rather peculiar, and felt alive; something old and powerful resonated here. She had no idea what it was, and frankly she wasn't interested in sticking around to find out.

Then, from her peripheral she made out the silhouette of the woman disappearing into the fog. She sprinted after without a forethought, crawling over ledges as best as she could. Ever so slowly, with every twist and turn, she began to gain ground. The intruder had the speed, but it seemed Claire had the better stamina. Ironic really, considering she never got much rest, but she wasn't about to complain when it was working in her favor.

"Hey," She called out, only a few yards from behind her. The Stranger gasped and craned her head, eyes wide in surprise, "Give me back the pendant, dammit, it ain't yours!"

They rounded a corner at nearly top speed, skidding only slightly to keep from falling off the cliff edge. With a bound forward the woman ran headlong toward another mirror, Claire only a foot or two behind. As they breached the edge of the object the redhead put the last of her strength into one final push, and jumped atop the woman. She screamed in surprise as they both fell into the mirror and into a cave on the other side; Claire grunted with the force of the impact and sent them rolling.

She struggled to push herself on top until she finally managed to pin the stranger. Panting heavily, she grabbed the pendant in the woman's hand and wrestled it free. Smiling triumphantly, she glared down at the woman. In the haze of victory she found that she wanted one thing, answers.

"Alright," Claire snapped, trying to catch her breath, "There ain't gonna be no funny business, ya hear. I want answers, and yer gonna give em'. What were ya doin' in my house?"

The stranger seemed to struggle for an answer; she had no weapon, as her staff had been knocked from her hand in the previous struggle, so it was clear Claire had the upper hand. However, before the redhead could get what she'd asked for, she noticed the strangers blue eyes snap to something just over her shoulder. She gasped in horror, and in turn Claire turned to find herself engulfed in the shadow of a huge bear.

It snorted angrily, standing on its hind legs threateningly, before bellowing out a guttural roar. Claire screamed and panicked, scrambling to the side just as the bear brought its fore paws careening to the stone floor. She head the ground crack beneath its weight, mind reeling in a blind panic as she frantically looked for an escape. Her eyes caught the other mirror, still glowing, and she dashed for it.

The bear, however, barred her path with its massive body, snarling and gnashing its teeth angrily. Claire backpedaled wildly, slipping and landing hard on her backside. It lumbered forward, and she closed her eyes waiting for the inevitable.

But it never came. The bear roared in pain, and she opened her eyes to see the stranger throwing rocks at its backside. One swiped the side of its face, directing attention away from Claire and towards the tattooed woman. She shouted at it in a language Claire never heard of before, grasping for anything she could reach to throw at it.

Then, not far to her right, she noticed the staff the stranger held. She didn't know what it could do against a bear, but if the stranger knew how to use it then her chance of survival could increase. She dove for it, grasping the firm wood in her hand and with all her might hurled it sailing over the bears shoulders. The woman caught it deftly, backing just out of reach of the animals claws, and gave it a quick swing at its nose.

From its tip emanated a ball of bright light, and with another swing she sent it hurling towards its face. Claire gaped in awe, unsure of what to make of the action, but noting that since the bear was distracted it was time to make an exit. She sprinted forward, making a beeline for the mirror, but from behind a flash of light sailed past her head and hit the wall. She screamed as rocks began to fall from the ceiling, as it had hit a critical portion, and jumped back to avoid being crushed.

She bumped into the bear, having been backed into a corner by the debris, who in turn snorted in frustration and lashed out. Caught unawares, its large paws hit her square in the chest, its claws digging into her skin, and sent her sailing into the wall. She cracked her head against the stone, her vision quickly blurring as she crumpled to the floor. She could feel blood pouring from the open wound on the back of her skull; she tried to put a weak hand upon it to staunch the flow, but found herself unable to move as the world around her dimmed. Finally, she could no longer fight as unconsciousness pulled her under.

* * *

"Do not stray from the path."

It was a mother's warning, an order to be heeded for beasts rarely attacked the well-worn roads.

"Do not stray from the path."

It was the wisdom of the Keeper, she who held all knowledge of what had been lost, to whom she imparted to her second. There was wisdom in tradition, in what was already known.

"Do not stray from the path!"

But what was to be gained from always following the same path day after day? True, the beasts stuck to the forest, but so did the past of her people. Yes, there was wisdom in what was known, but tradition kept them from learning new things. So it became that Ellana hated staying on the path, and this time she wished she had only followed the one simple rule she'd been told her entire life. Because now she was in a mess she didn't know how to fix.

She held her hands as close to the dwindling fire as best she could. The cave in had forced her to retreat to the entrance of the ruins, where the cold mountain winds bit through her skin. Teeth chattering slightly she pulled her meager coat around her tighter, heaving a sigh as she looked to the left of the campfire.

The human lay upon the ground, covered in the majority of Ellana's heavy hides so she wouldn't die from the cold. It had taken every bit of knowledge she had to keep the girl from dying of blood-loss, as magic could only do so much; especially when she wasn't skilled in its art of healing.

And all she could think of as she shivered violently was, 'what now'?

She had a job to do. The conclave was less than a week away, and she was about three days away from Haven still. She needed to be there to observe the talks. The Mage and Templar war was a concern to all the Dalish elves, if an agreement could not be reached at the Temple of Sacred Ashes then all of The People could be endangered. Therefore she could not afford the time to sit here, lest she be late.

But she could not, in good consciousness, leave the human to die.

Like it or not, it was Ellana's fault she was in this state to begin with. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she had brought her from the beyond into a place she clearly didn't belong.

And now...

Ellana wasn't even sure there was a way to put her back; the mirror she'd found, it hadn't survived the cave in.

The young elf rubbed her eyes furiously, unsure of what she needed to do. From her peripheral the furs began to move; a strangled noise escaped the human as she struggled to sit up. She clutched at the bandages wrapped around her head, her eyes trying to focus on anything.

Ellana gasped, moving to crouch by the human's side, "Try not to move," she advised softly, a soft hand pushing on the girl's shoulder, "You hit your head fairly hard." The elf eased her back into a prone position, checking to see if she hadn't pulled at the bandages.

"Where..." The human slurred, still trying to focus her thoughts, "Who...?"

"Do you remember your name?" Ellana asked, the human squinted at her with her green eyes, the freckles on her face shifting as she tried to think,

"Claire," she replied, "Claire Brennigan."

The elf sighed slightly; there seemed to be no lasting damage to her head if her memories were intact. Which meant, once she was able to collect her thoughts, she'd remember how she got here,

"Do you remember what happened?"

Claire paused, blinking rapidly, her eyes finally choosing Ellana as a focal point, "I remember bein' in my room," she sounded a little clearer as she licked her lips, "I - I was sittin' on my bed, and I heard a noise..."

The elfs' mouth went dry, "Go on." She urged, simultaneously wondering why she was encouraging her in the first place. It would be so much better for her if the human didn't remember. Then, a small voice in the back of her head reminded her that she was a good person.

"I thought we were being robbed," The human tried to sit up again, with Ellana's assistance, "I snuck into the living room to grab the phone so I could call the police..."

Phone, police? The woman gazed at her quizzically, but quickly shook her head. Not important, help the human then figure out where she came from.

And hopefully send her back…

"My mirror..." she began to rub her temples, her eyes squeezed shut, "It was glowing. It hadn't done that before, and there was someone rifling through my ma's stuff. Then the light came on, and..."

She stopped, going still before she slowly looked up at Ellana with clear eyes.

"You." Her voice became tense, her body stiffening as her gaze narrowed upon the elf, "I found you there, stealing."

They looked at each other for the longest time, and Ellana found she couldn't meet the human's gaze, "It was not my intention to steal," she offered weakly, earning her a scowl, "I swear it! I did not know the Eluvian would take me-"

"Eluvian?!"

"The glowing mirror, it is called an Eluvian. They are very rare artifacts to my people; when I found one was active I could not resist my curiosity I suppose. I had no idea your home would be on the other side."

They fell into an awkward silence, with Claire still glaring daggers into Ellana's skull. She fell back from her haunches to sit, clutching her knees as she tried to think.

"Look," Claire pulled at the bandage around her head, unwrapping it despite Ellana's protests, "I just wanna go home; take me back to the stupid glowin' mirror, and I can find my way back from there."

"I..." The elf cringed, averting her gaze, "I cannot."

"Why? You gonna take me prisoner, or somethin'?" The girl snapped angrily. The blonde shook her head,

"It is nothing like that," she tried to find the words, to break the news as best she could, "The Eluvian... When I was trying to fend off the bear I accidentally caused a cave in..." She looked at Claire then, their eyes locking as a cold realization dawned upon the poor girl, "I am sorry, Claire..."

* * *

The truth hit Claire like a speeding freight train. For a long time she forgot how to breathe as her eyes widened in horror at the woman. Then, slowly, she could feel her arms and legs begin to go numb as her thoughts burst forward in a rush of chaos. Her chest tightened as she panicked, bring her hands to her mouth as pained gasps left her lungs.

No, no, no, no...

This couldn't be happening. It was another nightmare, it had to be another nightmare!

"You would have woken up long before now..." Whispered a traitorous voice within her, and suddenly the world was spinning, she couldn't breathe, couldn't focus. Tears fell down her face as she started to sob, unable to get a grip on herself.

Because, if she was here that meant her mother would come home, and find her gone. Sally would actually think Claire had run away from home; over a stupid fight over some stupid magical mirror!

She felt a hand on her shoulder then, and through blurry eyes she could make out the Stranger. She was talking to her in a low, soothing, tone though Claire couldn't quite make out what she was saying.

What, focus? On what?

"What do you see?"

Her eyes; they were warm despite their icy appearance. Claire could almost make out small flecks of green within them, and now that she was looking they were quite big.

"What do you hear?"

The crackle of a fire, she could feel its warmth from where she sat. She could see the shadows it casted upon the stone wall of the building they were in. Outside, she could hear the howling of the wind, brushing her with its cold caress every so often.

"What can you feel?"

She felt hard stone beneath her hands, it was cold and rough. Small pebbles rolled over her palms as she moved them. Among them she could feel the small grains of sand, remnants of the building that had been worn away by time, and by the howling elements outside.

And as she focused on each of these things she could feel herself being anchored back into a stable state of being, the strangers voice ever calm as she urged Claire to breathe evenly until her crying stopped and she was left trembling.

"Claire," Green eyes snapped to hers, "Are you alright now?"

The redhead scoffed, wiping a hand carelessly across her eyes, "No."

It earned her a laugh, "At least you are honest."

Another pregnant pause, "What now...?" Claire whispered, moving so she could hug her knees. A sigh escaped the strangers' mouth, and she watched as the woman rubbed the back of her neck,

"I do not know..." Claire cringed and rested her head upon her legs, listening to the wind outside. This whole situation seemed so surreal; her mind kept screaming at her that this wasn't real, but she was having a hard time trying to believe it.

Mirrors didn't glow...

They're not supposed to glow…

But hers did, and according to the stranger it was like some kind of door. Which begged the question-

"Where am I?"

"Where do you think you are?"

"I don't know," Claire remarked sarcastically, "Earth, maybe?" Her sarcasm was met with a confused stare, and a sinking feeling settled in her gut. Claire felt herself begin to panic again, "Ya know, The Planet Earth?!"

Silence followed, until the stranger pulled out a rolled up piece of paper and unfurled it. She handed it to Claire, who recognized it as a map. She scanned it and swallowed heavily before shoving back at the blonde woman,

"I don't recognize any of that..."

You," she replied softly, "are sitting in a ruin within the Frostback Mountains, which stretches across western Fereldan. A country that is located in the Southern most regions of Thedas."

"I don't..."

The Stranger cursed then, loudly, and again in the language Claire couldn't make out before she rubbed at her eyes furiously, "Another world; I would be so happy to know this under normal circumstances."

"Normal circumstances," Cried Claire, "Glowing mirrors are a normality in this fuckin' place?!"

"Long ago, back when my people were at the height of their strength."

"Your people?" Claire's eyes glanced at the Strangers ears. She nodded,

"I am an elf," she explained, "Dalish to be exact, part of a wandering tribe. We Dalish tend to keep to ourselves."

Claire groaned into her hands with exasperation; Elves, glowing mirrors, hidden ruins in the mountains? What the fuck was next, magic?! She shook her head; she supposed it was too early to count that out, and all this was only the few of the many thoughts swirling around her head.

'Oh, fuck my life…'

She stared at the ground for the longest time before the woman's movement caught her attention. She smoothly stood and grasped her walking staff, before turning to Claire,

"I suggest you try and get some rest," she advised softly, "I am going to ward our camp from wild beasts. We will talk in the morning when I have had more time to think."

Needless to say, Claire didn't sleep well that night. She tossed and turned, and listened to the wind outside as she thought. And with each passing moment her predicament filled her more and more with dread. When she finally managed to drift off, her dreams were just as uneasy as her waking moments, filled with formless creatures and voices she couldn't quite make out.

The next morning she woke up sore, still exhausted, and very cold. Several of the furs she'd been curled up in were gone; Claire scrambled to wrap herself up in what was left before she noticed the elf sitting in the corner. She was busy working on something in her lap, humming a soft tune under her breath.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked suddenly as she paused to observe her handiwork. Claire huffed,

"It was okay." There was the awkward silence again before she mustered up the courage to ask what was on her mind, "So what now?"

The elf set down the furs, eyes gazing softly at the stone floor before reaching her own, "I have decided that you must come with me," She stated firmly, "I cannot, in good conciousness, leave you here to fend for yourself. Especially since it is my fault you are here to begin with."

Claire began to laugh, "Your fault," she giggled madly, "I don't quite remember ya comin' back through my mirror saying 'Hey, ya need to follow me through this glowin' piece of garbage that shouldn't exist to begin with.'. Sorry lady, you're not gettin' all the credit here."

The elf replied with her own chuckle, setting aside her project she swiftly stood and appraoched her side. Sitting back on her haunches she held out something for Claire to take. She frowned sadly and grasped her mother's pendant in careful hands,

"You would have not chased after me had I not given you good reason." She said softly, "So I suppose we are both to blame, but that does not change the fact that you are in a place you do not belong. If I leave you, you will never surivive."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence..." Muttered Claire dryly,

"I am being realistic, Claire."

"Right... So say I go with ya, what then? I live with elves for the rest of my life?"

"If it comes to that, perhaps. My ultimate goal is to find another Eluvian, and hopefully help you find your way back home."

Claire gazed at her for one long moment; something warm blossomed in her chest and her eyes began to sting with tears. With only a few simple words she gave Claire a small hope to cling to. She didn't realize she was crying until the elf wiped the streaks from her cheeks, a sad smile on her face,

"I cannot say for sure what will happen; mayhaps I never find another Eluvian, but I promise I will never stop trying."

"That's more than what most folks would do for a stranger," Sniffed Claire, "Thank you."

Still clinging to the last remnants of her home, she watched as the elf returned to her project. She quickened her pace, as if she was trying to finish whatever she was working on. As she observed, Claire noticed that there was a folded pile of furs next to her that looked suspiciously like clothes.

Had the elf been working on them all night?

"So," Claire shifted uncomfortably, "I never got your name."

The other woman chuckled, "It is Ellana. Ellana Lavellan. There, I think that should do it." She was standing again, grabbing the furs, and she held them out of Claire to take, "They may be a little big, but it is better than being to small. We can tie down the parts that don't fit."

Ellana helped dress her, and she was right whens he said it was a little big. She used rawhide to tie down her legginsg and boots, and to wrap the sleeves of her coat,

"Well," she said as she stepped back, "It is not as eloquent as anything a mastercraftsmen might make, but it will do for now. It is warm?"

"Yep."

"Good," She began to pack hastily before she kicked out their dwindling campfire, "We make due haste to Haven."

Shouldering her things, she motioned for Claire to follow who quickly fell in stide beside her. The cold air bit into her cheeks ruthlessly, her breath frosting with each step. They started their climb out of a valley where the cave to the ruins had been hidden; Claire could see why it was easily missable. Trees mostly blocked the entrance, and the harsh winds kept the snow drifting across the landscape hiding noticable structures.

"So what's Haven?" She panted out, climbing a steep incline with Ellana's help. The elf chuckled,

"Haven is a place; a small village nestled deeper in the Frostback Mountains."

"And going there is going to help me get home?"

"Not quite; a war has been waging upon Thedas for quite some time now. Haven, and the temple just beyond it, has been chosen as nuetral ground for a meeting of the two parties in hopes that an accord can be reached. I was ordered by my Keeper, the leader of my tribe, to observe the peace talks. This is to take place in less than a week from now, and I must be there."

"Oh." Claire bit her lip, "That makes sense."

"Worry not, Claire. Once the talks are over, no matter the outcome, I will take you back to my people and we will begin our task of getting you home. All I ask is for you to bear this for only a little while."

"Sounds cool to me." She replied as they continued on into the wilderness.

They traveled for nearly four and a half days. The walk was grueling for Claire, who was not used to traveling such long distances in extreme weather. As big and as dangerous New York was, it did nothing to prepare her for the journey ahead. Many a time Ellana had to stop so Claire could rest, and they ended up turning in early some nights because of it.

Yet, the elf was ever patient. Claire could see she was in a bit of rush, and she felt bad, but there was nothing she could do. They filled the long days with small talk which consisted of Claire asking questions and Ellana answering them as best she could.

She learned a lot in those four days; a lot of it blowing her small mind. Magic, Templars, and Elves. Ellana didn't know a whole lot, but what information she gave to her would help her blend in in the long run.

Which was a huge problem the two kept running in to.

"We have to hide your accent." Ellana stated upon the third day, "Not to be rude, but you sound quite ridiclious."

"Me," retorted Claire, "You've heard yourself talk, yeah?"

"Claire, I am being serious here. The circumstances surrounding your arrival throw everything the Chantry has taught the world into the wind. If you are found out you could be executed at the very least!"

"Okay, okay, calm down. Don't tell anyone I came through a crazy frickin mirror, got it..."

Claire groaned inwardly; realizing that blending in was going to be a whole lot harder than Ellana made it out to be. They started that day, with the small elf teaching Claire what slang and phrases she knew, and correcting her accent. She decided that the young outsider would best fit in as Ferelden as she and the natives sounded a lot alike; whatever that meant.

Claire couldn't help thinking she sounded ridicliously fake,

"This isn't gonna work," The redhead argued, "Anyone with a brain can see I'm fakin' it."

"Then talk only if you must; if anything, silence will prevail where words will only reveal you. However, for now, you must practice."

The next day, they found the road, and quickly made haste to Haven. Ellana seemed much happier now that they were moving at a better pace, and soon it wasn't long before they were encountering other people along the way. Men with oxen like creatures hauled huge wagons past the pair, dressed in warm clothes not like her own. Several armoured gaurds walked with the wagons, deadly swords hanging at their sides.

"We should be reaching the main road to Haven soon," Explained Ellana excitedly, keeping her quick pace. Claire wheezed slightly, feeling a burn in her legs as she tried to keep up,

"Thats a good thing," she called back, "How much longer?"

"At most? Two or three hours, but if we rush ourselves, then an hour and half mayhaps."

Claire snorted, "Yeah, and I'll be dead from exhaustion by the end of it."

Ellana sighed softly; she slowed herself slightly, allowing Claire to walk by her side, "What kind of world do you live in where such a short travel winds you so severely?"

"Short travel? A quick stop at the shwarma joint down the block is considered a short travel to me. This, walking for four days straight, is a fuckin road trip. An exhaustin' one at that. Seriously, I think I'm losin' feelin' in my legs, Ellana."

Ellana quickly hissed under her breath, "Quiet, or you are going to draw attention to yourself."

Claire noticed a few eyes follow her as the pair walked, "Right, sorry."

"There was no harm done, but it would be best if you keep your emotions under control. I can already see that you will give yourself away with your flaring passions."

"Yeah, Ma always said my mouth would be the end of me," Claire chuckled, but the momentary mention of her mother suddenly left a great weight in Claire's heart.

* * *

Ellana did not fail to notice the sullen silence that followed the mention of Claire's mother. The small smile that had painted the girl's face mere moments before suddenly fell away. Green eyes lowered in sadness and her hands went to the pocket where the locket was safely kept hidden. The urge to apologize became overwhelming, but Ellana knew full well that there were only so many times she could say 'I am sorry'.

As she tried to find the words to ease Claire's pain they came across the main road to Haven. The great road twisted inwards towards the deep mountains of the Frostback, curving along the valley. Traffic became much greater when they finally reached the main road. Mixed with the merchants and the faithful coming to pray, Templars and Mages each eyed each other carefully from opposite sides of their forced march.

"Are they…" Claire seemed at a loss for words, faltering in her stride as she tried to take in the sight before her.

"Templars and Mages, convening for the Conclave. Without a doubt, this and its outcome will make its mark upon history."

"Jeez, you can feel the tension in the air. They really hate each other that much?"

Ellana lead Claire through the crowd to a safe place along the road where she could keep an eye on the two parties. The last thing she wanted was a Templar to pick a fight with her or another mage, and with the palpable apprehension in the air a squabble seemed very likely.

"This hate has stemmed from many years of mistrust and abuse on both sides. Mages are feared for their connection to the Fade, our world of Dreams and Magic. A world inhabited by demons, Claire, and if a mage is not careful they could possessed. A possessed mage loses all of what made them, well, them. They are a monster bent on killing and consuming."

"So the Templars were created to what? Imprison Mages?"

"Technically, the Templars are the militaristic branch of the Chantry, the religious order of Thedas. It is their job to hunt down Apostates, mages not under the control of the Circle of Magi, Maleficar or possessed mages, and to watch over the Circle of Magi itself."

"So they're the Chantry's thugs?"

"Do not say that to their face, or you'll find yourself with a sword in your gut. The Templars follow the will of the Divine, the leader of the Chantry. They go where she cannot, and exact her will what ever it may be. If she says to keep watch over the mages they will take said work quite seriously."

"And if she says 'hey go start a holy war'?" A prolonged silence followed Claire's question, to which she scoffed angrily under her breath, "Figures… Even in this world religion is the same, just follow the guy with the bigger stick and the most cash in his pockets."

"The divine did not start this war," explained Ellana quickly, "In fact, this Conclave is her idea, and is a symbol of hope for many."

"I guess we'll see how well that works out, I guess. It's kinda neat, I'll be able to witness 'history in the making'. Never thought I'd have that opportunity."

* * *

The last leg of the journey passed with relative ease. They eventually broke away from the Mages and Templars, the parties heading to the Temple deeper in the mountains. Claire and Ellana followed the rabble to Haven, a fortified village made up of sturdy wooden walls and scattered tents around the proximity. She could see smoke rising from the houses and her body suddenly ached to be somewhere warm. Maybe even a bed instead of the cold hard ground, and warm food too!

The pair walked past the main gate with a group of weary travelers. With guards eyeing them from either side, they hurried to an inn. As the door opened, Claire was hit with a wave of gratifying warmth. The smell of booze, sweat, and smoke followed afterwards with a hint of cooked food hanging in the air. Patrons talked loudly amongst themselves, and just above the din she could just make out the light plucking of a string instrument.

Ellana went straight to the bar as Claire took in the surroundings. The smoke hung heavy in the air, and the fireplace sent shadows flickering along the wall. Men and women were clustered around tables, eating or resting their weary heads upon their arms. All at once she began to feel overwhelmed and she couldn't help but draw the similarities between this and her fantasy novels.

"Claire?" The young woman was pulled out of her reverie by a feather light touch on her arm. Ellana had returned, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just all this," she gave a general wave of her arms, "it's just so surreal. Taverns and bards, this shit happens in books where I'm from. I'm just havin a hard time adjustin, I guess. Sorry."

"Do not be sorry, Claire. You have nothing to be sorry for." Ellana gave her a reassuring smile before sighing deeply through her nose, "For now, our lodgings will be in the Chantry. All other beds have been claimed."

"So we're sleeping on the ground again?" The elven woman turned to leave the tavern, Claire close behind. Her companion nodded, but gave her a swift wink as they navigated through the houses towards a large stone building farther inward,

"I will see if I can procure some bedrolls and blankets for us. In the meantime, I suggest you wear your clothes to bed. The cold can seep in through the floor."

Claire opened her mouth for a witty retort, but only cried out in shock as she felt a very hard body run right into her. She was sent stumbling over herself, landing on her hands and knees. A burst of fury erupted in her chest as she quickly scrambled to her feet to face the woman who had run into her.

She was taller than Claire by a few inches or so, and much older. She wore a stern expression on her face, accentuated by the scar dug deep into the skin on her cheek,

"Why don't ya watch where ya fuckin going," Claire snapped angrily; the woman's dark eyes narrowed on her, "Can't ya see I'm walkin' here?"

* * *

 _ **A/N: First of all I want to apologize to all my readers; these last few months have been difficult for me to say the least. At some point I let myself be consumed by the monotony of work and life, and didn't find very much joy in writing anymore. It's only by the encouragement of my boyfriend that I managed to sit down and begin writing again. While I can't promise chapters as fast as you'd like, I assure you I'll give it my best shot to finish this story, no matter how long it takes. So, for all of you to enjoy, the second chapter of Voyage of the Dreamer (Name still Pending)**_

 _ **PathlessSpore**_


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